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We started seeing each other and things didn’t feel bad at first. We spent time together regularly, and I developed feelings quickly. Over time, things began to change in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. Moments that once felt normal started to turn sour. “What else are you into?” he asked while we were having sex. “I don’t know. What about you?” I replied. “Slapping.” I was taken aback, but since I had feelings for him I wanted to impress him. Big mistake. “You want to slap me?” I asked hesitantly. “Kinda.” “Okay. We can try it.” So he slapped me across the face. It stung but I didn’t show it. “You like that?” he grinned. “Yeah.” I didn’t but I was too caught up in my feelings to say that. “You can slap me too if you want.” I never consented to slapping again; he never asked. Some time after, I refused to give him a kiss so he grabbed my hair and pulled me towards him. I pulled away and he slapped me. I kissed him so he wouldn’t do it again. Similarly, another time he was asking for a kiss when I was on top of him. I laughed and pulled away. “Please.” He begged. “Nuh uh.” I giggled. He looked at my necklace and grabbed it, ripping it from around my throat. We stared at each other for seconds before I laughed so I wouldn’t cry. He offered to buy me a new one but I said I’d fix it at home. I learned later that it was too damaged to be fixed. Another day we were curled up in front of the TV when I blurted out: “What’s your weirdest kink?” He thought for a moment before answering. “Blood,” he said. “Huh. Want to add more?” I asked, indicating the scars of self-harm on my arm. He chuckled. “Don’t have a sharp enough knife, I’m afraid. But when I get one, would you like to add some to me?” “Only if you want me to.” A moment of silence broken only by the TV. I didn’t know how to respond to that. “How about you?” “Huh?” “What’s your weirdest kink?” “Similar to yours; I like knives.” Again, I was trying to impress him. “I have a knife.” “I know. Want to give it a try?” “Do you want to?” “Sure.” He got up, retrieved his pocketknife and returned to the bed. We made out, got undressed and soon enough, he slipped inside me and brought the blade to my throat. He had his eyes closed and was focused on our lips and he accidentally poked the side of my neck. I didn’t mention it until the next time we hung out. The next time, he begged to cut off my underwear. I said okay, as long as he didn’t bring the knife near my throat again. He started hacking away and once there was a giant hole, he gave up and pulled them off before positioning himself between my legs and thrusting. He brought the knife to my throat. Thinking he had misheard me, I asked him to put it down. Through kisses, he asked why and I explained that he had poked my neck last time and I wasn’t interested in that happening again. He promised it wouldn’t and we kept going. I think I asked him to put it down again after that. Perhaps not, I really don’t remember. He asked if I wanted to top and I said sure so we switched positions and when I was settled, he handed me the knife. As I went to put it down beside us, he took my hand and assisted me in holding it against his throat. I don’t understand why he didn’t respect my initial no, I figured it was because of that old saying that everyone thinks at one point or another. ‘Boys will be boys’. Now I know that it’s boundary violations and coercive behaviour. When I asked him to stop, he should’ve stopped. Instead, he put me in an impossible situation where I had a knife at my throat and a man on top of me who refused to remove it. At that moment, I froze. I went to his house again after that and his hand tried to go up my shirt but I stopped him. I said, “No sex; just kisses.” “Just kisses?” He asked. I nod. “Okay.” He said. We kiss every few minutes while taking breaks to watch TV. His hand kept running up and down my hip and thigh. I took his hand and placed it on my thigh, telling him to ‘stay’. We kept kissing and his hand slowly trailed along my thigh and down to my butt, squeezing and stroking gently. I moved it back to my thigh and told him to leave it there. He tried to put his leg between my thighs like he’d do when we were naked before sex and doing a bit of foreplay. “Move your leg.” “Sorry.” He grumbled. His hand kept moving so I rolled over and put his hand on his thigh. “Stop touching me.” My turn to grumble. He asked, “Why?” “Because you’re making me horny.” “Good; be horny with me.” He said as he started kissing my neck and pressed his erection against my butt. “Not today. Don’t feel like it.” I moved my legs up and wiggled forward so my butt and his erection were inches apart. He stretched and moved his thighs so they were pressed against the back of my thighs and his erection was back against my butt. I rolled back around to face him and we kissed again. “Please, I need you.” He begged against my lips. I’m sure his boner wasn’t comfortable. So, I gave in. “I need you too, pretty.” “Can we fuck?” He asked. “Okay.” His hand went under my shirt and bra and he pulled both up. I removed them for him and he removed his own before settling back down with his thigh between mine. “Grind for me.” He commanded. “But I want you to fuck me.” “I will. Grind first.” I tried to protest but he started kissing and sucking on my nipples and instead, I moaned. He started grinding so I did as instructed and grinded against his thigh as we made out. As I got closer to orgasming, I said, “Please stop.” He paused and asked, “Why, baby?” “‘cause I’m gonna cum.” He continued to grind even though I had stopped. “Good girl,” he moaned. “Cum for me.” “But I’m wearing pants—“ “Shhh, that’s okay.” He took hold of my hips and guided me along his thigh, causing me to orgasm. My face was hot with embarrassment and I hid in his neck. When he stopped, he asked, “Did you cum?” “Mhm.” I nod against his neck. “Good girl.” No break, no warning; his hand wormed its way into my pants and underwear and he began to finger me. This is another example of how he refused to respect my boundaries and coerced me, wearing me down until I said yes. He would play games when we were done, logging onto Discord to voice chat with his friends. When he was in the middle of a game, I overheard him say, “how to give a bitch Stockholm Syndrome”. Again, I brushed it off as him being edgy. I realise now how disturbing his mindset had to be to say something like that. I told him I don’t beg for anyone. The next minute, we were undressed and he was rubbing himself against me, instructing me to beg or he wouldn’t put it in. I tried to resist, but he pinned my hands until I gave in. He would say, “you’re such a desperate slut.” Once he even told me that he was researching psychological warfare, and when I asked what that was, he said, “manipulation tactics.” Which truly highlights his mindset. I thought I might be pregnant and I sent him a text about it, expecting comfort and emotional maturity. What I was met with was a photo of a gun and cleaning supplies. Before I went to university, I joked about him getting together with an old lady to keep him company since our town is basically a retirement village. He said nah, he’s going to scout the high school for a 17 year old. With all the bad times stacked together like this, it’s easy to see the toxicity. However, it wasn’t all just bad times. He drip-fed me affection to keep me hooked on him, so that every time I tried to leave, he knew I’d come back hoping for the good version of him. We were watching a show when a scene depicting criminals getting shot at when I had a thought of what if one day it’s late at night and I’m at home with our future kids and he’s out somewhere and something bad happens to him but I can’t help him? A tear fell down my cheek and landed on his bare chest. I froze. I knew he felt it but I wasn’t sure how he’d react. He gently kissed the top of my head, changed the channel to ‘Cold Ones’—a YouTube channel we always laughed at while we watched. We were at his house in his new room and he kept trying to engage in intercourse with me. I told him no, that I just wanted to cuddle and watch TV. He got grumpy at that and told me “if you’re not going to have sex with me, you can leave.” I got up, started grabbing my stuff and he asked where I was going. I said I was leaving and all he said was okay. That response was so dry that I decided to stay. I climbed back onto the bed and he kept asking, “can I touch you?” I kept repeating, “it’s probably dry.” Without warning, he shoved his hand down my pants and started rubbing me, moaning about how wet I was. We started having sex because he wanted to and I didn’t want to get kicked out. His bed was too squeaky so we moved to the floor. I asked him to pass me a pillow and he dropped it on my face. Then he came over, stood above me and started waving his dick around over my face and squatting lower. I asked him what he was doing multiple times and he was just grinning without responding. Finally, I crawled out from under him and asked if he was about to take a shit on me. He replied that he was just going to get me to suck him off. I didn’t agree to any of that. Again, it wasn’t all bad. We were eating Domino’s BBQ chicken in bed when a drop of sauce fell onto my breast and he pointed it out. “Lick it up.” I grinned. “Ew, that’s gross.” He grimaced. “You weren’t complaining ten minutes ago.” He nodded. “True.” He licked it off. Some time later, he made a joke about getting me BBQ sauce for my birthday. Another time I was tickling his feet and he grabbed me and put me in a headlock with his legs and tried to fart on my face. This happened more than once. Christmas came rolling around and he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. Excited, I told him to surprise me and I went shopping for him, buying a bunch of items I thought he’d like including a music note necklace, a dragon-skin bauble, dice, fidget toys, incense and an incense stand. Of course, his favourite expensive chocolates too. When I gave him his presents, he had nothing for me. I saw a cat statue on his desk and he said it was for his ex-girlfriend. He never got me anything. He finally left me after I tried to commit suicide, told him I went to the hospital when really I was scared and hid in my room. I told him I lied and he freaked out, sending me a message that said, “my point is whilst you were idealising your own death I was stressed like a mf and everytime you declined my help it didn't make me feel really all that good, then you lied to me about getting help you made me feel like shit.” I wouldn’t stop messaging him, trying to get him back and understand why he treated me the way he did. He got an AVO and is actively using it against me.

Unsure When I was 11 or 12, my brother and his best friend sent me down to his friend's basement with that friend's older cousin. The cousin kept telling me I was "prude" and that I needed to prove I wasn't. I don't remember much of what happened - I know he put his hand down my pants and up my shirt. I think my brother's friend also told me I needed to prove I wasn't "prude". When it was over, I felt so ashamed. I still do, and I'm 55. I don't understand why my brother, who is 1 year older than me, would let that happen. May have actually facilitated it. I remember that around that time, he was in trouble at school for drawing his own pornographic magazine, and that he and his friends had found a bunch of dirty magazines and were passing them around between themselves. That same summer, I remember that my brother burst into my bedroom while I was laying on my bed reading and thrust a tower of legos between my legs. I feel like anything that makes someone feel ashamed and vulnerable constitutes abuse, but I never put all this together in my head about my brother's role. Has anyone else struggled with this?

Date Dear Inner Self, I could see a dim lamp in the distance, I wanted to get closer so I floated closer and closer. The freezing air cutting into my cheeks this time, my ears screamed in pain. I needed to be there but the pain became too much, I had to stop and retreat a little, floating back away from the dim light in the distance that I so badly wanted, no needed. But i just couldn’t handle getting to close this time. This time everything felt different. Since Name was gone, the pain felt more intense, I can’t block anything out anymore. But I knew I needed to see what this light was so I embraced the searing pain in my ears and cheeks, even my toes and feet ached with agony from the cold and snow. The pain got so intense as the house came into sight, I was screaming in agony but I ignored myself just so I could see what this was, it was different and that scared me. BOOOF Suddenly, I crashed my body flailing as my right knee collided with the same roof as before. As my knee hit my body clasped onto the Inner self’s roof. I just laid there for a few minutes trying to process what just happened. You see I thought this light looked different and safe so I decided to float down, not knowing what I just released, not knowing what waited for me on the other side. I slowly raised my hands up to my face to see why they were eating away at me with a dull ache. Blood, crimson blood dripped from my hands. My eyes grew big. My palms were sliced up pretty savagely , intersecting little cuts joining into one big web of slices as blood oozed like a new ketchup bottle that was just opened and you added too much pressure causing it to spill over. As Outer Self was observing my deranged web of cuts on my hands a voice broke through my intense focus but as it spoke the other nipping pains of the cold came back to my cheeks, ears and toes. Like a sharp stinging dull ache. “Hey!” It was Inner self he was jogging over to the satellite that acted as a ladder down. He seemed terrified but seemed like he wanted to be helpful. “Climb down, I need to speak to you, right now!” He calmly stated the first part yet screamed aggressively “right now!” Outer self grunted in agony. “I can’t, my hands ruined” he said through gritted teeth “Just come down, fall if you have to, I need you right now, I know I was outraged yesterday but today…Oh just come down I don’t care how it happens!” “I want Name back but I understand what she was doing but this, this just feels is too different” “Judge and Monster are suffocating inside, there’s a different Monster now and I don’t know who he is yet, I don’t want to go alone or get too close, I don’t know what’s happening anymore” Inner self added his voice slowly painting with uneasiness. Outer Self’s eyes went wide with apprehension. He tried to speak but nothing came out, only choking on several one word questions at one all fighting to get out all at the same time. But suddenly, Outer Self lost his grip on the jagged icy roof and crashed into the ground with a violent deep yet dull thud. His body flailing in mid air just before he hit the cold snowy ground of reality. THUD “Outer self! No, I need you alive!” Outer self realized yes the crash into reality hurt but it was necessary to now see who this monster is, Bloody intricately sliced hands or not. 2 blotches of crimson blood were left into the snow as he slowly yet unsuccessfully tried to get up. “Get up” Inner self spoke in a gruff inpatient matter Now there was no time to process anything as the world now demanded me to move even if I really shouldn’t. Suddenly, I felt 2 hands reaching under my arm pits pulling me up in a slow awkward motion as Inner Self wasn’t strong enough to fully pick me up. He just haltingly dragged me toward the impending door. Only so i could deal with this new monster for him without any of my choice in the matter. “No-o P-please, P-please do-n’t” outer self slowly choked out as he was haltingly dragged across the snow. Then he was dragged up one step onto the deck just before the door inside his feet dragging like a fork pressing into mash potatoes. Outer self could see the dim light in the living room just off the kitchen getting brighter, his dread intensified but there was nothing he could do, he was now broken by his Inner Self. As he got closer and closer inching toward outside the door his stomach dropped out of his body along with his intestines. They stayed as his body moved on. That Monster wasn’t himself, it was another Man. Someone he recognized. His intestines and stomach didn’t move as they were dragged further from his body. Yet everything snapped back into his body as he somehow got to his feet in a quick calculated manner. His eyes immediately went wild darting rapidly as his breath sped up so fast it threatened to choke him out and kill him on the spot. He recognized this man, it was, Outer self hated this term, Rapist. Suddenly, Outer Self screamed in torment as he looked down, his hands gushed with new blood. Then, there was a sharp twinge in his groin and inside himself “down there”. He felt that deep-seated panic that he’s felt only twice before in his entire life. A primal fear he couldn’t explain ever if he tried. Outer Self wanted to grab the knob but he literally couldn't. Not with his hand the way they were. “Go ahead, what are you waiting for?” Inner self callously yet mildly stated As Outer Self began to come up to the door half tripping up the long wooden 2 steps to the door, The new monster slowly turned his attention and head towards outer self with a cold vacant, empty look, steel. This monster had no Name, no he wasn’t even human he just looked that way, it was deeply disturbing to Outer self. THOOK Suddenly, from Outer Self’s left side something tackled him taking both himself and this mysterious being down with him. His body stiffly descended, he turned his head last second as they both hit the deck below them. Wait It was Monster who just tackled him as the new monster looked on from inside. How did monster even get outside Outer self thought?

In my story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER, I briefly mentioned 3 instances of avoiding being raped by letting men just have me when it seemed like they were going to do me whether or not I consented. I do think I avoided emotional and physical trauma at the time, but the anger, self resentment, and feelings of being wronged and about it did snowball after. I never shared or released those stories. Please read my original story for context. In this instance the sex was already happening when I awoke, and my reflex was to take the non-confrontational path. The easy way, not the right way. I had gotten home from work as a server at my bar and grill restaurant and my female roommate had her father staying with us for the weekend. I had already met him since they drove straight from the airport to the sports bar I worked at. That’s were he told me, “Just call me, ‘Dad’”. They sat in my section, ate, and left. No issues. Then, back at our 2 bedroom apartment there was a small party for his benefit with a couple of our friends. I had a couple hard ciders and chatted about college and my roommate and heard stores of when she was a kid from. I flirted and humored “Dad”’s sexual innuendos directed at me, and ignored his eyes all up and down me. I was used to it. I played the good hostess and waited until it was all dying down probably around 2 or 3 am, before I showered and went to bed. It had been a long day with both class and work. I was stirred out of my sleep a few hours later with "Dad" already inside of me, thrusting in and out between my legs! By the light streaming in through my dark blinds I could tell it was day. But WTF was happening?! My panties were off but my T-shirt was on. Underneath it the dark figure who I quickly was able to identify as "Dad" was caressing my breasts with one hand while holding me down with the other. Still dazed and confused, I guess I put my arms around him and responded like a willing partner. He soon finished and then it got awkward.  He told me "That really hit the spot". He started to make conversation! The longer I had to think, the more I realized what happened. That he had just helped himself as I lay sleeping. I was 19 and dating a hot university baseball player at the time and would not have gone for this fifty or so year old guy on purpose. He was sure drinking that night but I had only had a few ciders. So there I was, realizing I had been kind of raped but held hostage by a sense of politeness! Not to mention as I was 5'3'' 110 pounds, so there was the physical intimidation from a much taller man with a dad bod.  I always pee right after sex but felt captive by "Dad"'s ramblings as he propped himself up on one elbow hovering over me while he ran his fingers over me and stroked my hair sporadically.  I shared his cold can of beer with him that he must have opened right before he came in to rape me because I remember drinking deeply the cold liquid soothing my dry throat. I suffered through some dad jokes and stories I did not care about, as well as answering some personal questions about myself and my sexuality. I was looking for momentary pause to get up and away from “Dad” when he said, "I'm ready to go again, baby." NO! He moved on top of me! Instead of fighting him off me or even saying "no", I spread my legs to accommodate him! WTF! The second time did not have the desperate eagerness of the first, unfortunately. As he even said, he wanted to teach me a lesson this time. I guess about how good he was is bed. A definite case of ‘whiskey dick’. So I let this man I had never wanted or considered sex with jostle me into several positions. He was large man and so much stronger than me it was a joke. After the missionary he picked me up to prove some point and did me against the wall right next to my window. I remember seeing through cracks in the blinds and knowing it was early because the parking lot was full and nothing was moving. Then SLAM onto the bed. We did 69 with me lying on him where I sucked him with all my might wanting to END IT while he was licking me. I failed! He had me being on top riding him at one point. I was on my hands and knees with him ramming behind me when I collapsed under his weight to flat on my face. He enjoyed never letting up on the thrusts as I was completely pinned down by him. I let him give me two or more orgasms in hopes he would just finish. I was so loud I was embarrassed my roommate would come rushing in my room any second. She was passed out drunk. He finally left as soon as he finished. I am sure his ego was massively inflated and the terrible man still thinks of me today! I lie there in my bed catching my breath and getting more anxious. I got up, pulled on some sweats, and B-lined straight out the door to my gym. I wanted to get away so bad. I drank water like I had just walked out of a desert. I showered for so long at the empty Saturday morning gym without any products but hand soap. Then I started to work out like crazy, on three hours sleep and exhaustion. I was trying to sweat him out of my system, to scream and thrash through my exercise. I showered again then went out and fell asleep in my car in the back of the lot. The rest of the weekend I only went to my apartment for minutes at a time to pick up things I needed. I sure as Hell did not sleep there! When he was gone I answered my roommates questions that I had been blowing off with lies and short answers. I told her the truth. She shrugged and looked at me skeptically, like it was just one of those things. I was promiscuous in college and she knew it. We sort of made a joke out of it and moved on. The easy way, not the right way. I still have big time guilt at how I was back then. At the time my things was not that "I wish I had fought him." What I wished was that I had been too drunk to remember!!! So that was that. Something I kept inside, festering. Other things added to it and it got swept under the rug of my damaged psyche. Not one of the worst skeletons in my closet but what I was willing to share for now. I am working up to the others. My first story I shared helped a lot. I hope it helped somebody else too. I thank all of you and I empathize. I will read your stories and support you in my thoughts and prayers.

Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

I was sexually assaulted while living abroad for college. I did not accept what had happened to me for some months and allowed my life to spin out of control. I am doing better for myself now and picking up the pieces after having accepted the reality. But I am finding it harder and harder to process and work though the thought of memories of the incident. It feels like im taking one step forward and two steps back. Luckily I have people who I confided in but I feel like asking to talk about it is too much to ask. I can still feel everything, it hurts in my body and I hate that this happened to me and I want so badly to move on.

This is not easy and I am now sure more than ever that others felt the same way. While you can feel you are in it alone there are so many many many stories that are the same. I was at such a tender age. Innocent and blameless. I never knew that i was being taken for granted by the very person who said they love me. They were my family member. Little did I know i would continue to move forward in my life in a manner that only God could heal. Now I sit hear as a full grown adult after going through emotional, physical, psychological abuse by so many that claims to love me. I continued to protect them all because I never told my side of the story. It all ends today. No one else gets to take advantage of my weakness. I was in a long time relationship that started as your typical relationship just beautiful. All of the nice things occurred flowers, candy, gifts. As time went on and things were more settled the take over begun. The insecurities continued to grow and grow. Around year 2 is when the physical abuse started. He had me right where he wanted me. My family tried to intervene but I thought I was in LOVE. Yea I said that 4 letter word that can cause so much pain. Yes I stayed and that was the end to most of my relationships with my family. The relationship with he and I would span another 10 years before the END was the END. I tell you it was not easy at all. One thing I did learn is that most people that should be for you will call you all kind of names stupid, dumb, etc. so much so until you start to believe it. Never give up on yourself.

I was silenced for so long, now my voice rings free. I’m still filled with agony and it’s hard to bear, but there is hope and I know each day I am getting better. I was silenced by so many who wanted to keep me and my story down. I was sexually assaulted by a member of a fraternity and then the whole fraternity has worked endlessly to help cover up my assault. I was too scared to even come forward as they threatened me and started rumors and lies to harass me. I will not be silent anymore. I am standing strong and resilient. They did not break me, I will rise from this terrible event. I am leaving behind the shell of me who never would have spoken up and sat in agony longer everyday for someone who now stands tall and proud. I’ve used my voice and my experiences to advocate for others who have been hurt like me. I am ready to use my voice for good and start a revolution.

I’m name, When I was just ten years old my mom would remove my clothes then sexually assault me.it didn’t matter how much I cried as she did it. She only cared about what turned her on. :’( I’ve been quiet about it because she’s a principal at a school, but I am sick of protecting her. I now use my victim stories to promote my onlyfans.

Hello, this is my first time talking about this online. In real life, I have only told my boyfriend what happened to me. It's hard to tell this story but I just want to get it off my chest, maybe I can finally let go after writing it down. It is a really long story though. Last summer I was raped by my ex boyfriend, but I don't want the story to start there, I'll start when we met for the first time. We went on a double date with my friend and her boyfriend. I didn't know him at all. The date was alright, we even made out and I agreed to a second date even though I didn't feel like there was a spark but unfortunately I'm a people pleaser and my anxiety is very bad so I just went with it instead of rejecting him like I should have. The second date was weird. We went to a bar, he kept buying me drinks. I don't think I was drunk but definitely tipsy. When we left the bar, it was already like 1am and we sat down on a bench somewhere. There was no one around and so we started to kiss which eventually led to him putting his fingers in my pants. I was a virgin back then, barely even kissed someone so even though I was uncomfortable I kept going because I thought that by now (I was 18) I HAD to experience something like that. I wanted it to stop there but he layed me down and started to perform oral on me. I told him I didn't want to do this because we were in public but he said ut would be fine, to just relax and that it would feel good. When it was over, he asked me to be his girlfriend. I found some courage and said no, that I would go to uni in two months anyways. But he insisted saying that we could just break up then. So I stupidly agreed. We met another time, same bar. Again he kept buying me drinks. After that I went home with him where we had sex. It was consensual this time but I felt weird after because he kept asking me how much I enjoyed it and how many times I orgasmed (I didn't, but I felt pressured to lie). We then went to sleep. I left the next morning not knowing how to feel. On one hand, I was happy I finally lost my virginity like everyone else but I knew that I didn't love him. Texting him gave me the worst anxiety, I hated it. The next day I went on a weeklong trip with around 12 other people for our graduation. On that trip, I abused a lot of drugs, manly sleeping pills, tabacco and alcohol and one night, I drunkenly kissed my best friend. I am not proud of that, cheating sucks and I know that this was not right but I admit that ut wasn't just the alcohol, I had feelings for him, I just didn't realize it, unlike my ex, he made me feel so loved and appreciated, I wish I admitted my feelings for him sooner. When I came back from the trip, I told my boyfriend what happened. I wanted to tell him in person but he insisted I text him immediately. He seemed calm over text, saying that he "knew" it would happen and that he "forgives" me but he wanted to talk to me. Ge told me to meet him at 12am at night at the train station in his city, about 45min by train from where I live. I got there and he started grilling me with questions. About what happened and about personal questions about my best friend. He wanted to set some "rules" for me, like that I couldn't drink without him or be around my best friend. He then started to talk about how much he hated my best friend (he didn't even know who he is) and that he wanted to beat him up and stab him with a knife. At that point I told him to stop, that I would not let him talk about my best friend like that and finally I said that I wanted to break up. He didn't, he said that he was sorry, I didn't care, he said we could have an open relationship, I didn't care, I just wanted to break up. So we did but he said I couldn't tell anyone that I was the one who ended it, whatever. We just sat there for a bit talking and I laid my head on his shoulder, I know that was stupid thinking back I hate myself for doing it but I did and we kissed again. He said I should come home with him to have "breakup sex because every couple does that" but I didn't. I got up to take my train home but just when I wanted to walk up the stairs, the train left. So I went back, my ex was still there, I thought maybe he'd stay for a little so I wouldn't have to wait an hour alone at night for my next train. He didn't want to and I was fine with that, told him I'd be fine waiting alone but he insisted I go home with him because it would be too dangerous. I said no and then he said, verbatim, that we didn't have to have sex, I said that I would come home with him only under that condition amd he agreed. Again, I was a fool, I hate myself for going back with him, I'm crying writing this. When we got back (it was like 4am) he went outside to smoke. I went to bed and tried to sleep. He came back, layed next to me and that's when it started. He touched me, kissed me and I said I just wanted to sleep. He didn't stop so I shoved his hands away. He tried again and again with me pushing him back everytime and telling him to just let me sleep. At one point he said "ok if you puah me back one more time, I'll stop" and I DID but he STILL kept going. I was tired, exhausted and realized he wouldn't stop. I didn't know what to do because everyone was asleep and I didn't even know his family, honestly I didn't even know him, we met a total of four times. So I let it happen, thought maybe he was satisfied with just touching me but no. When I knew that he was going to "have sex" with me I just said "can you at least put on a condom?" He did and then he raped me. I kept hoping it would end soon. It was terrible, I hated how he took advantage of me and I hated myself once again for not standing up for myself more. The next morning I left as soon as possible but I was weirdly happy, as in I couldn't wait to leave and never see him again. I didn't even know that it was rape because I felt like me "letting it happen" didn't count as rape. It was only months after I learned what "coercion" means and I realized that what happened to me was infact rape. I only told my boyfriend who is amazingly supportive, he's the love of my life (also my former best friend, yes the one I cheated on my ex with). I know the police wouldn't believe me and I'm scared to tell anyone else in fear that they would not see it as rape, tell me I'm just overdramatic or that I just regret it but "consented". Even I feel like that sometimes. There were so many occasions where I should have stood up for myself but I didn't. I feel like it's my fault partially because of that even though I know that it's not. I don't know what to do. I want to talk about it with a therapist but I'm so scared that they wouldn't believe me or belittle my experience. Thank you all for reading my story, this helps me so much. I know that sexual assault can never be undone but we can still be strong. We can recover, I believe in you and me.

On date, I was dating a guy, he threatened me into making sexual videos with my little brother. He showed me his stepfather's gun and told me he had my address and would hurt me or my family if I didn't give him what he wanted. I gave him the videos but got locked out of my phone the next day, he got mad and sent the videos to a girl at my school, I explained everything to her, but she didn't care and her and a guy at my school showed the videos to everyone. I was forced to live with family members who told me it was my fault. Still to this day I blame myself, I'm in therapy now, but it still hurts and idk if I'll ever truly be able to forget the events of that night.

My body remembers. 6 years ago my oldest sister disclosed to me that she was molested by a family member. Ever since then, I felt out of control and disembodied. I would cry almost every day. I would have panic attacks that lasted hours. I became more and more isolated, and more and more depressed. I was no longer the person I had been and I didn't understand why. A friend gently suggested to me that I seek professional counseling. Therapy wasn't new to me and I had some experience with it as a kid and young adult. But I think I misunderstood the purpose of therapy. I thought therapy could finally answer the question that tormented me my whole life: what's wrong with me? If we could figure that out, then my therapist could fix me. I didn't realize that therapy would actually help throw away that question and ask a new one: what happened to me? I felt confused and even embarrassed that while I didn't have a cognitive memory of being abused, my body seemed to be screaming at me that something happened. I think when my sister shared her experience, these signals in my body started to wake up from hibernation. As I began processing all of this in therapy, things started to make sense. I started forming a vocabulary for my experiences, like shame, addiction, trauma, and somatic memory. Last Fall, I started seeing a new therapist who changed the trajectory of my healing. When I told her that I think I was sexually abused as a kid, she actually believed me. Unlike my other therapists, she didn't go on a rant about how "repressed memories" are a myth. She didn't tell me to "not worry about it" because we'll never know what happened to me. My therapist listened to and affirmed my experiences. Because of this gained trust, I've shared things with her that I've never told anyone. Instead of saying "we'll never know so let's just move on", she says "we may never really know but based on my expertise and your experiences, it's very likely something happened to you, so let's keep talking about it." I felt a suffocating weight release from my shoulders when I realized that somebody believes me. My body has started to heal from years of severe anxiety and depression. I've started pelvic therapy--something I thought I'd never do because I was too scared. I'm more connected and authentic with my friends than I ever have been. I've started gaining traction with sobriety from addictive behaviors. I've even started gaining back some childhood memories. One of the most pivotal moments in my healing so far happened just a few weeks ago. My sister and I have only ever talked about her abuse one other time in the last 6 years. I finally told her "I think something happened to me, too." Despite all the fear and shame that held me back from saying those words to her, she believed me. We talked for over an hour about the abusive behaviors and patterns in my family. I've had a really difficult relationship with my family; so to grow close with my sister is a big deal. I am so grateful to have gained a friend and ally. Perhaps I really will never know what happened to me as a kid, but I'm learning to trust my body. I'm slowly releasing the trauma that's been stored there for so long. And I finally feel confident in sharing my story: Hi, I grew up with multiple predators who abused the women in my family. Though I don't have a cognitive memory, it is very likely I experienced childhood sexual abuse. The trauma in my body is a huge indictor of that abuse and I trust my body. I'm doing my best to heal and to end the generational abuse in my family. Thanks for listening.

“You are not alone. It was not your fault. It is possible to heal. It is not too late.” As a survivor of trauma and abuse, I am learning to cope with strategies – such as denial, self-blame, an unconscious reenactment of unresolved traumatic experiences, and normalizing sexual exploitation. When I was hurt being sexually traumatized by my father, secrecy, shame, and self-worth boundaries did not matter. No one could be trusted, and the world was not safe. Emotions from my childhood were complex and confusing. There was no single method or pattern of remembering a traumatic experience. I went through my life trying to satisfy everyone, and always forgot myself, but God blessed me by helping me get through my adulthood trauma. With faith in the Lord, everything comes to light. Yes, good is the light that shines within ones-self, and that makes you attract and remember that any trauma can be overcome, as-long-as you remember that we can teach ourselves appropriately how to feel about ourselves. And, that we all deserve the best. Remember we are born to love, to express love, and feel happy about living. Remember, God has our back, and always remember, He sees all. Amen. I experienced that shame and defensiveness throughout my childhood and all through high school. I kept moving, and I kept attempting to ignore the fact that I had this massive entity inside me which I needed to get out of! Today there are many times I do not feel comfortable expressing my emotions and attempt to cope through self-destructive behavior which then impacts my life. I have finally shared my story publicly, and have started feeling some real, significant relief. I’ve expressed my emotions, and no one has reacted negatively. No one has judged me nor have they thoughtless of me. But now I think, “You know what? My family doesn’t know this about me.” I have been afraid to tell my family for so many years! And, finally, it is time. Here is what I want you to know: If you’ve experienced any kind of sexual abuse or trauma, you do not have to feel guilty! You can forgive yourself, and you can forgive others for their behavior. You no longer need be a prisoner of these experiences. Focus on what you have. That may be easier said than done. But, when you’ve lost something so important, you need to focus on what you have, and make the best of what you have, and do not fall into the trap of self-pity! One neat trick is to find at least one positive thought and focus all your energy on that premise! At first, it may feel too little, but once you maintain focus and all your energy on that one thought, you’ll find coping with the present setting a much more positive experience. Take small steps to make subtle shifts, “The journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step.” – Lao Tzu. Again, in dealing with trauma, healing will not happen quickly. You must remember to be patient and gentle with yourself while allowing the process to unfold. It is important not to be harsh with yourself. Indeed, you’ve already experienced enough. The good news is that there are very effective ways to cope with and treat the effects of trauma. I have found these actions quite helpful. *Lean on your loved ones. Identify friends or family members for support. If you feel ready to discuss the traumatic event, you might talk to them about your experience and your feelings. You can also ask loved ones to help you with household tasks or other obligations to relieve some of your daily stress. *Face your feelings. It’s normal to want to avoid thinking about a traumatic event. But not leaving the house, sleeping all the time, isolating yourself from loved ones, and using substances to escape reminders are not healthy ways to cope over time. Though avoidance is normal, too much of it can prolong your stress and keep you from healing. Gradually, try to ease back into a normal routine. Support from loved ones or a mental health professional can help quite a bit as you get back-in-the-groove. *Be patient. Remember that it’s normal to have a strong reaction to a distressing event. Take things one-day-at-a-time as you recover. As the days pass, your symptoms should start to gradually improve. One final thing: The Sexual Violence Survivor’s Bill of Rights: 1. No one has the right to abuse you or anyone else. 2. No one deserves to be assaulted or abused. 3. You have a right to stop the abuse that is happening to you or anyone else. 4. You have a right to pursue healing and justice for the abuse that has happened. 5. Sexual violence is wrong. The abuser is wrong. People who protect the abuser are wrong. YOU ARE NOT TO BLAME. 6. You did not destroy the family or betray their trust by speaking out about your abuse. The perpetrator destroyed the trust of the family every time he/she committed an act of abuse, Bible Quotes: Isaiah 41:10 "So do not fear, for I am with you, do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." 2 Corinthians 1:4 “Suffering in this life often feels meaningless. Scripture immediately brings a sense of purpose to our suffering. Those who have been comforted by God—strengthened, encouraged, relieved of the burden—have opportunity to pass along comfort to others who are suffering. In that sense, God's comfort is reproducible and repeatable. God remains the source, but believers can keep distributing God's comfort to others who suffer as they have.”

Sexual assault is a spectrum. I think as young women we laugh off so much - bring catcalled from 12 or 13, being groped in clubs, mocked for pushing a guy off who won’t keep his hands of you. I’m so glad there is this space to share our stories <3

My first experience was with an ex girlfriend when I was still young, I didn’t know that when they wouldn’t take no for an aswer and I gave in, it would make me feel so horrible. I continued to date her and give in to her whims until she left me. The next time was similar, but it made me feel even more terrible because that’s when I knew he only wanted to date me to fuck me. We didn’t get very far before being caught, and the relief I felt for being found was incredible, but the shame was unbearable and gut wrenching. Five years after, still struggling with the burden of my previous experiences, struggling with the shame, I couldn’t talk about it with anyone. I went to a house party to see an online friend from overseas, there was only one other girl at that party and I immediately felt unsafe. I was right. I can not say what was done to me while I was drunk off my ass, or while I was half asleep in bed, but again I feel shame for not being able to fight back, for being so scared that after my no or my drunken state weren’t taken seriously, I just gave in again. I feel dirty, I feel like a burden for being traumatized, I feel like a whiny bitch for feeling like this when there are others who have gone through so much more.

I’m always scared to share what I’ve been through. After 9 years of being in a physical and emotional abusive relationship, hiding what was being done, I finally realized how much damage was done to me. I just feel damaged. After ending the relationship I thought it was over. But the worse was yet to come. This man attacked me when I was 5 months pregnant, with my 4 year old was in my arms. He punched me, strangled me, dragged me by the throat into his home twice and he pulled a weapon. Never in my life have I felt like in that moment, me and my children were going to be taken off this earth. We are a year and half out, and the trial is coming to an end next week. And I’m a mix of emotions. I’m just beyond thankful that me and both my children made it out alive. Just know I want to heal, and I’m lost on how to do it.

I thought that sexual assault victims had it easier in usa or in Europe. Easier than us in Middle East and arabic gulf countries but i was so ashamed when i realized that sexual assault is hard anytime anywhere. I was sexually abused by two of my cousins , once from a stranger worked in nearby Deli and the fourth time by my private tutor . I was only 13 years old first two times , 15 in the second time and 18 in the fourth. and here in Middle East if it’s happened to you and tell your parents and family there is only two scenario either your dad, uncles or your brothers kill the man who did it to you even if he is family member or they will make you feel that’s it’s your fault somehow and neither is working. Because of my young age in first 3 times i was afraid and I didn’t told anyone until now even my best friends or girlfriends later . The only time I disclose my fourth time by my tutor i told my mom and she told my dad he threatened to kill him but I bugged him to calm down and this was the only abuse I don’t remember all the time and have no effects in the long term maybe because my family helped but the first three time was a hell and still is I have many mental illnesses depression, anxiety, ADHD and insomnia and I can’t help to think maybe if I told them back then that maybe they helped me and I won’t have this pain untill now . This is the first time I’ve had talk about it and it’s hurt alot . Im 39 now and still struggling with it and im not seeing any light in the end of the tunnel.

I don’t know when it all started. I was sexual abused by my older brother, I didn’t understand what was going on but he told me I should suck on his private. Once he had his friend there and he said it has different flavors and I will like the taste. He told me it’s a secret and I would get in trouble if anyone finds out. It had to start young, he’s 4 years older than me. While sitting on my grandma lap she stuck her finger in my anus and I must of had a look on my face. She said she was checking if I had to poop, nothing never happen after that, that I remember. I feel robbed because my virginity was taken away for the longest time. I’m 52 years old now and I always wonder why pick me, did I have a certain look? I never told anyone not even my therapist. I’m ashamed.